


The world we'll never know

by tatch



Series: Shades of Red [3]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alfred is a life-saver, Alfred is the best, Depression, Everybody Dies, Everything Hurts, Feels, Gen, Jason and Tim are the best bros ever, Jason never died, Survivor Guilt, The Author Regrets Nothing, The Justice League people are a bunch of morons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 11:12:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6236371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatch/pseuds/tatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slight change of events leads to a brand new world</p><p>OR</p><p>Jason never died in that warehouse<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The day Gotham goes silent

 

NOW

Tim is moving through the hallway, his feet as silent as ever. The morning sun bathes the staircase in a gentle glow but doesn't quite reach the last few steps. There's a stillness, a silence weighting on the house. The mansion, which is usually filled with voices and laughs and banter, even this early in the morning, is a tomb.

He sighs. It's today, isn't it? His patrol had lasted until the crack of dawn, but he should have noticed the stress in the criminals moves. Because even though Tim keeps forgetting the day (his memory isn't what it used to be but most of his skills remain, so shut up), the city reminds him. It's like a switch is turned somewhere.

Everyone who's lived in Gotham for more than a few years knows. The stores close early, people holing up and hiding, the cops are off the streets and the criminals- most of them will hide and pray for the sun to rise (some of them will be found anyway), 'cause tomorrow will be safe, tomorrow the only threat will be Batman (not that Batman is no threat but the Bat doesn't kill.) But tonight there will be no Batman.

The few that will go out and do whatever villainies they've got planned and couldn't get delayed, will be armed like it's the end of the world. Armed to fight off an army. Because tonight, the Hood will hunt and there will be no mercy.

 

 

Damian is waiting for him down the stairs, melting out of shadows. Someday, maybe sooner than they think, the kid will make an frightfully impressive Batman. Apparently, Damian came back for _this_ this year, instead of staying in the Haven and do whatever it is that Nightwing does there.

The young man's face is blank but his anger is simmering right under the surface, showing in the tightening of his fists and the scowl he's trying to keep down (Dami had always had a problem when dealing with emotions. Not that Timothy would say anything, having his own share of emotional... dysfunctioning. And he isn't the kid's father. Not that said father was any better in that department either.)

 

"How is he?" Tim asks. Because even though he already knows the answer, he has to ask.

"Why didn't you tell me that it was that bad?" Damian hisses through gritted teeth. And Tim sighs again.

"He asked me not to. And you know how he gets." And D is making that 'I will kick your butt later, Drake' face. "Would you have told me? Would you have ignored your father's demands concerning this?" Damian looks away, face contorted in a mix of pain and concern and anger. "Me neither. Not today anyway."

 

"You should have told me." he whispers, the edge of something shaky, broken in his voice. And Tim pulls him close, buries the younger man's face in his shoulder (Dami is taller than him now, has been for a few years. Not that Timothy ever was of the tall kind but talk about growth spurt.) He won't say a word about the sobs he can feels getting muffled there or about how much wetter his shirt is getting by the second.

 

And it's in moments like this that Tim misses Alfred most. Because for all the experience Timothy has in dealing with the broken men that he's come to call his family, he still doesn't how to make things better, how to not just sooth and keep them all going, but how to heal and mend and make the world spin right once again. Alfred had known. Alfred was-he had been Alfred being Alfred. There's no real way to describe it. Alfred had been a quiet warm sun making them all feel better. Feel right when everything was wrong. The butler had been a rock for years. And maybe Timothy and Damian learned some of those skills out of necessity but they were never _that_ good. And there's nothing he can do to heal Damian's wounds, let alone the wounds of the oldest of them, who's somewhere in the mansion, walllowing in guilt and self-hatred.

 


	2. Wishing I could go back in time...

 

THEN

 

Jason woke up slowly. The pain in his lungs, his ribs, his legs, everywhere reminded him of where he was. He grunted. He was still in that warehouse, lying in a pool of his own blood, hadn't moved or been moved since he passed out earlier. (How long had it been since then?) And he seemed to be alone. It was a good thing right? If that clown was gone, it meant Jason could actively search for a way out without the risk of getting beaten to death for it.

 

There was no way he would be able to get rid of his cuffs, not with broken fingers and at least one broken arm (he wasn't sure about the other one. It didn't hurt that kind of bad.) So he started thinking and laid* silent and as still as the pain in his chest at every breath allowed him to be.

 

He knew the door was locked tight because he'd actually made a move for it at the very beginning of this. The Joker had mocked and cackled 'Locked door. No windows. Perfect cage for a broken bird, don't you think' as he had kicked Jason and broken a few of his ribs. Suddenly, he felt something brushing his neck. He turned his head but there was nothing. Some of his wild strands of hair were moving though. (ones that weren't drenched in blood anyway.) An air current? Which might mean a way out.

 

Jason crawled, following the wind. It was coming from behind a pile of smaller crates. One of the crates wasn't pushed against the wall all the way. There was a space behind that crate, just large enough for the teenager to fit in. (Good thing his teenage growth spurt thing had not happened yet. Ok yeah, it had happened, just not completely. Or so Jason hoped. He was pretty sure he was going to get taller than Dick at some point.)

 

Jason squinted, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the light breeze. There was something moving almost imperceptibly a bit further, something covered by an old shredded rag. The teenager creeped closer, his heart beating crazily in his chest. As much as he wanted to believe he may had just found an exit, the whole thing could also be a trap set by Joker. The clown was mad enough and more than twisted enough to imagine a way to bring his prisoner's hope up again then shatter them. Break the Bird to break the Bat. (Jason shuddered at the thought of what Bruce would do if anything, well anything permanent, happened to his Robin, any of his Robins, past and present.)

 

He moved closer and yeah, though it was pretty hard to see it in the dark corner, somebody had done a pretty bad job of trying to cover an air duct. He crawled faster and removed the cloth with a wince. His arm wasn't broken but still hurt like hell. Man, was he lucky.

 

The grate that was supposed to cover the actual vent hung loosely by not four, not three but one and a half screw (Half because the other one only kept the thing hung, not closed and was more of a hook than an actual screw) All Jason had to do was pull and push to the side and-there. The air duct was open, inviting him in. The breeze blew stronger for a second and it felt like a promise of liberty to the teenager. He wasted no time and started crawling into the dark tunnel. It was a good thing that he wasn't any taller or bulkier or he wouldn't have fit in.

 

He crawled and squirmed until there was suddenly no more ground further under his hands. He couldn't see (the tunnel had turned a few times and it was now pitch black in here) so he had to rely on his hearing and his sense of touch. Jason reached out until he could touch the cool metal of wall on the other side of the hole. It seemed to go down too. But he had no idea how far down the ground was. Well, shit. He racked his brain and searched his non-existent pockets (because of course Joker had disarmed the Boy Wonder and taken his belt. For some reason he didn't have his boots either. Which- Why was he only noticing this now?) until an evident solution came to him.

 

"Let's say it's head trauma." he muttered to himself snapping his mouth shut on the last word as his voice echoed loudly throughout the vent. Jason went still and silent and listened carefully but there was no sound coming from where he had crawled from. He sighed in relief and went on with his 'plan'.

 

He spat down the hole, being careful in not putting any strength into his spit. It took less than a second for the sound of his saliva (which was currently probably mostly blood) hitting the ground to reach him. The sound had been a bit dull so there was a chance that it was probably not metal down there. Normally, Jason would have already been down and moving, but in the state he was?-this was going to hurt.

 

He grunted as he positioned himself, so that his feet would touch down first (instead of his head. He wasn't that stupid.) and hoped his legs would be in a good enough shape to not collapse under him during the landing. He couldn't really feel them because of the pain in his arm, fingers and ribs was omnipresent and overshadowing most of his other sensations. (Who would have guessed broken fingers hurt that much or that breathing through broken ribs made him wish he didn't have to actually breathe.) 

 

As he jumped down and landed with a dull sound on something that felt like soil, he heard a metallic clanking sound in the distance and an almost inaudible 'Honey I'm ho~ome'. Dread and fear and adrenaline shot through him. He needed to get out of that tunnel NOW. He crawled as fast and stealthily as he could, uncertain as to whether Joker could hear him or even knew about the vent that led to an underground tunnel or about the vent at all. He had no idea what would happen next. Maybe he had done all of this in vain and the madman would be waiting at the end of the 'road' with that crowbar. Jason tried real hard not to think about that but a stubborn little voice kept chanting in the back of his mind, that he was doomed and all of this had been in vain.

 

He moved a sharp looking stone to the side. It looked sharp enough to cut him deep. Which- Jason blinked and looked at the stone. He could see again! The light was dim but it meant he was almost out! And maybe the sudden grin on his face looked a bit manic but well, circumstances. He slowed his advance a bit, trying to hear... something, but aside from the light hiss of the breeze and the distant sound of the city, there was nothing.

 

Jason got out into what seemed to be a hill from which he could see the warehouse at a distance and got up on shaky legs. And as he collapsed on himself a few minutes later (having put some distance between him and the tunnel exit), it wasn't only due to exhaustion (though it was quite a big part of it) but also to a wave of relief, that made his knees buckle and his eyes water.  The stars were bright. A light breeze caressed his skin. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking some time to recover, for he was in no shape to go any further.

 

 


	3. Jason Todd lives

 

The moon had moved in the sky. That was Jason’s first thought. God, how long had he been out exactly. Not long enough for the night to turn into day, but long enough for the light breeze to turn into a strong wind and for the stars to be completely obscured by clouds. A couple of hours probably then. He turned over, stifling a groan as he rolled on his broken ribs. Good point, nobody had found him while he was passed out. Bad point, nobody had found him while he was passed out. Worse point, he had no real idea of where he was or where the Joker had taken him and he was in no shape to travel far or for long.

 

Jason tried to get up but a sudden spike of pain had him curl up instead. He hissed through clenched teeth, trying to push the pain away. Damn, he had messed up big time, hadn’t he. Maybe he wouldn’t make it out of this one. The thought of what losing him might do to Bruce jolted him back to the present and to trying to find a solution to his current predicament. Jason tried to stand up one more time and actually managed to. He just stood there, eyes closed, waiting for the nausea and the dizziness to stop and for the pain to recede, or for himself to get used to it.

 

The chilly wind helped with two out of three of his problems and he reopened his eyes. He could see the warehouse from afar, like a lighter grey cube in the weak moonlight. A city could be seen beyond the building. It was probably either Gotham or Blüdhaven. Jason was pretty sure the Joker hadn’t had time to get him further away than that. The warehouse seemed unlit from here, but Jason wasn’t about to tempt fate. He needed to get back to the city and he was ready to make a huge detour if it meant he wouldn’t be getting anywhere near that place. Like, ever.

 

His train of thought was derailed by some lights in the distance. Was that a car? Instinct had him crouch so that he wouldn’t be seen but he regretted it the moment he moved. Everything tipped sideways and his vision blurred. Fuck, had he lost that much blood. Jason tried to remember but apart from the fact that he had been lying in a puddle of his own blood, he couldn’t remember much about the exact quantity. Fucking fuck. (Bruce would be chastising him for his language if he was there. Too bad the old man wasn’t.) The roar of an engine cut through the sound of blood that was pounding in his ears. Wait, he knew that sound. He got up, much slower this time. And yeah that was the Batmobile, being driven at an ungodly speed. The smaller light was the Nightcycle (seriously, Dick should stop naming shit, like yesterday) and there seemed to be more than one person on it.

 

They had all come for him. Bruce, Dick and even Babara had all come to rescue Jason. His heart seized in his chest and the corner of his eyes felt damp. He dried them on his unbroken arm. There was no time for this shit right now. He needed to let them know that he was safe and out of harm’s way. He shouted but instead of the sharp exclamation that should have come out of his mouth, there was a ridiculous broken croak. Jason coughed into his hand and there were flakes of what seemed to be dried blood on his palm. Great, just great. Apparently, he had swallowed his own blood and his little ‘nap’ had let said fucking blood dry in his throat, making him lose his voice, even though it was just temporarily. Awesome. Now he had no way of telling his family he was there. Well, no way other than walking all the way over there. Better get to it. As Jason started going down the hill, he saw one of the three silhouettes that were lurking around the warehouse turn his way. It seemed to be Dick, as it was neither the tallest nor the one with red fuzzy blob around its head (hey, it was far and the dim light made things hard to see, okay?). Jason couldn’t see Dick’s face from where he was but his big brother took a few step in his direction. “Yes, Dick, c’mon keep going I’m right there.” Jason muttered. But Dick turned back and after a handful of second, he joined the other two once again, not without turning in Jason’s direction once more though. Shit. Jason kept going down the hill, heading painfully slowly to the car’s location.

 

In the distance, the three silhouettes gathered and then headed toward the warehouse’s entrance. There was a moment of stillness, as they listened and probably checked the door for explosives, and then they entered the building. Jason tried to go faster, more than once, but every time he did, his vision blurred and he actually had to slow down for a moment. He couldn’t imagine what was going on over there. Were they kicking that damn clown’s ass? Was he bargaining with them, exchanging his freedom for Jason’s (even though Jason was no longer there)? Was the Joker even inside anymore? Good question. ‘Cause Jason remembered hearing him come back to the warehouse but that had been hours ago. Ugh. He had no idea.

 

Somewhere far-off, probably coming from the city, there was the sound of a church’s bell ringing. And then the warehouse exploded. A pillar of flame stood gloriously for a second then died down and debris started flying around. No. Jason stood there, dazed, unbelieving. No. He ran, his vision blurring and graying over every now and then, his breath ragged and hissed through the pain that was constricting his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins, no longer letting pain stop him. No no no. They had to be fine. Surely they’d found a way out before the explosion. He arrived on the explosion’s site.

 

The warehouse was nothing more than a crater of charred remains and torn metal. “No.” The croaked whisper got lost in a roar of flames. Jason got closer. He needed to know if- if- he just-. There were four partially calcined bodies laying there. “No.” There was a ringing sound in Jason’s ears, or maybe it was the bell that was still ringing from far away. Dazedly, a part of Jason’s brain noticed it was midnight, as the bell rang its twelfth ring before falling silent. “C’mon…” Jason stumbled even closer, the heat burning his feet. A cough came from the closest body and he rushed over there. It was Dick. Dick was alive. Dick needed medical attention but he was alive. Jason hooked Dick’s arm over his shoulders and the high pitched whine it elicited from his brother shattered his heart. He mumbled and muttered some non-sense in a soothing tone as he dragged Dick away and out of the crater and to the Batmobile.

  
The doors opened when the car recognized Jason and he settled Dick in the back seat. He still needed to get the others to safety. He was searching for a pair of boots (he’s got a spare in the car, he knows he does, he always does) when a sudden spike of pain had him keel over, vision blacking for a second. “Master Br- Oh thank god Master Jason, you’re okay.” Alfred’s voice cut through the blackness. Jason blinked a few times, trying to get his vision to return. He might be panicking a bit. “Master Jason? Jason. Breathe. Breathe with me.” Alfred took a few slow deep breaths and Jason followed his example. He could finally see again. He turned to the monitor where he knew he would see the butler’s familiar face and indeed, the wrinkled face of his favorite person in the world was looking back at him, concern etched in his features.

“I’m okay, I’m okay, I just- I need my boots- I need to save them, Alfred. There was an explosion and-”

“Jason, breathe.” Jason breathed deeply again, keeping the panic at bay. Alfred almost never called him by his name directly.

The butler checked something one of the computer’s screens and went forcibly blank. “I will drive you back home, hang on.”

“What, no- Alfred, the others-”

“Jason, the suits readings indicate-”

“No.”

“-that the only ones still alive-”

“Don’t say it.”

“-are you and Master Dick, who is in a critical condition.”

There was the sound of sirens approaching. They needed to leave, now.

“Dick needs medical attention, now.”

Jason’s cheeks were damp for some reason and he sat in the driver seat, the car locking up behind him. Dick groaned in pain, his breathing shallow and his brows knitted. Jason curled on himself, a tight bundle of ragged breaths and muffled sobs, as the car drove away from the explosion site, remotely driven by Alfred.

 

This was all his fault.

 


End file.
